


Rinse, Lather, Repeat

by leashy_bebes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crumble fic under running water, and be sure to suspend disbelief before bathing. An epic tale of awkwardness, daft boys, and love as expressed through bathing products (yes, you read that right. Bathing products).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rinse, Lather, Repeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nuclearsugars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearsugars/gifts).



It's quiet today, and Arthur's got a textbook open on the counter, out of sight of any customers who should wander in, desperately trying to fill his head with Kant's moral philosophy before the in-class test next week.

"Arthur!" Morgana yells from the back room.

She's a pain in the arse, but she's not Kant's second formulation, so Arthur's actually quite cheery as he calls, "What?"

"Care to explain why some skinny, half-naked _oik_ is demonstrating Lush products outside the shop?"

" _What_?"

The Lush store is almost directly opposite The Body Shop, and it's a bit of a running joke that the staff in each place will do everything they can to tempt people away from the other shop. This is a bit much though, and Arthur slams his book shut, heading quickly out of the shop. Sure enough, there is a skinny half-naked oik standing at a small, wheeled table, equipped with a large basin of water, gleefully showing off fizzy, bubbly things from Lush.

"Oi!" Arthur yells. "You can't bloody poach customers from right outside my shop!"

The boy turns around hastily, and Arthur has time to notice the wide brown swathe of something almost muddy looking across the boy's chest, the smear of something pale lilac across one cheek, before his breath catches momentarily in his throat. The boy has ridiculously blue eyes. _Ridiculously_ blue. And cheekbones that are only emphasised more when he gives an impish grin and says with the slightest trace of a Welsh accent, "Hey, free market, mate. It's shit, but it's the only game in town."

"Seriously, _get out of here_ ," Arthur says, just about resisting the urge to add, _scat_.

Blue-eyes turns back to the gathered crowd and starts collecting his products with quick hands, all the time saying, "Okay, Ladies, Gents, _the man_ says I have to move on now, so if you'd care to follow me – "

"Free samples," Arthur blurts. "It's free sample day here at Body Shop so come on in, have a look around, leave this urchin to get cleaned up and moved along before the men in white coats turn up."

Blue-eyes glares at him for a moment, then grins when the crowd splits pretty evenly in half.

"Hey," he says, and tosses something towards Arthur. Arthur catches it reflexively and finds himself looking at a tiny pot of bright pink crystals.

"What the – "

"Kissably soft lips, guaranteed," the boy says, with an outrageous wink before leading the younger, hippier contingent of the crowd off towards Lush.

***

Arthur knows he's in for a bad day when he turns up for his shift to see Morgana setting up the small wheeled cabinet they use when they're demonstrating hand massages, facials, and makeup advice.

"Oh, no," he says, because the glint in her eye leaves him in no doubt as to what she's planning.

Sure enough, she just smiles thinly and says, "Oh, yes. That idiot boy from Lush was here again yesterday, and Sophia was too stupid to chase him off."

"Don't take it out on me," Arthur mutters.

"Arthur, it's not personal. It's strictly business."

Arthur glares at her. "You are not the Godfather, Morgana."

She shrugs like that's totally irrelevant, and goes on, "In technical terms, that boy is _taking the piss_. And what do we do, Arthur?" she asks. "We fight fire with fire. So. Off you go."

"Oh, _God_ ," Arthur groans. " _Fine_."

He sets the cabinet up outside the shop, only for Morgana to appear in the doorway and glare until he drags the whole thing closer to Lush.

He gives hand massages to a pair of middle-aged women, and makeup and skincare advice to three giggling teenage girls. All of them walk into the shop afterwards, and come out with bags a bit later. Just when Arthur's starting to think it might not be that bad after all (it's a nice day, lots of his mates will be passing this way on their route to uni, and he's out of reach of Morgana's vicious-chest-poking style of management), everything goes to hell.

"Hi."

Arthur looks up to see the blue-eyed boy from the other day. "Oh, Christ."

He holds his hands up in a gesture of appeasement. "I'm off duty, I swear."

Arthur looks closer and sure enough, the boy's wearing a typical student outfit, jeans and a faded black t-shirt, a weird red scarf knotted casually around his neck. "What do you want?" Arthur asks, still not exactly of a mind to be friendly.

"Hand, er... _massage,_ right?" he asks, glancing at the bowl and bottles in front of Arthur. The _hand job_ crack goes unspoken for once.

"Believe me, I've heard every joke you'd care to make," Arthur says.

"Oh, please," the boy tuts. "You don't sell products called _Sex in the Shower_ , _Dorothy_ , _Tramp..._ "

Arthur can't help laughing. "Dorothy? Seriously? As in friend of?"

"Yeah. It's got a rainbow on it and everything."

Arthur laughs again and nods to the stool opposite him. "Sit. Pick a smell, any smell."

"Um..." The boy hesitates, looks over the bottles arrayed on Arthur's workspace. "You don't have the grapeseed one, do you?"

"It's been discontinued."

"Shame. My mum used to use it all the time, it smells like home. Okay, never mind. I think...coconut."

"Wise choice. Smells like holidays," Arthur says, and realises that he's slipping into _chatting to a customer_ mode. That is, right until the boy hops onto the stool opposite Arthur, ditches his bag on the floor and holds out a hand.

"I'm Merlin, by the way."

Arthur arches an eyebrow. "Merlin. _Really_."

"Yes, _really._ Not my fault my mum's a frustrated hippy."

"She must be so proud," Arthur says, nodding towards the Lush storefront.

"She kills my staff discount getting me to send stuff home for her," Merlin admits, and he wiggles his fingers pointedly until Arthur takes his hand and shakes it briefly. Then he pours hot water into the bowl, along with a squirt of coconut shower gel, swirling his fingers through it, bubbles forming quickly.

"Check it's not too hot," he says, and the boy – Merlin – takes off a couple of silver rings and drops them onto the table before dipping his fingers into the water.

"S'fine. What's your name?"

Arthur takes hold of the boy's left wrist, dips his hand into the water, and washes it quickly. "Arthur," he admits.

"Arthur and Merlin! That's brilliant! I've never met an Arthur before," Merlin says, chattering brightly, his fingers wriggling below Arthur's in the water.

To his own surprise, Arthur finds himself flustered. He has to do this all the time, mainly to teenage girls and middle-aged women who giggle and blush furiously while he touches their hands. He's never bothered by it, but for some reason, this _Merlin_ , complete with ridiculous ears and scarf and name, puts him on edge. It's maybe because men don't really _do_ this, unless Morgana's centre stage. Or maybe it's the way Merlin just studies him quietly through what Arthur can't help noticing are decidedly long, sooty lashes.

Either way, it's fucking awkward, and Arthur clears his throat. "So, how long have you worked there?"

"Oh, only a few weeks. Gwen, the girl I live with, she got me the job, she worked here last year, too. The bookshop I worked in last year closed down so when term started..."

Arthur blinks. He hasn't had a gaydar malfunction like that in _years_.

"Gwen's your girlfriend?" he checks.

"Oh! No. No, no. Flatmate, that's all."

 _Ah._ Maybe not a malfunction after all.

"So you're a student?" Arthur asks.

Merlin nods as Arthur unscrews the tub of exfoliator and scoops some out on the end of one of the plastic sticks. He smoothes it over Merlin's hands one at a time and tries not to look at the other boy as he answers, "Illustration and animation. What about you?"

"Economics and business studies."

He senses rather than sees Merlin's raised eyebrow and forgets himself a bit, snapping, "Something wrong with that?"

"Do you enjoy it?" Merlin asks mildly.

"Yes," Arthur says defiantly.

"Then no," Merlin says with a smile. "Nothing wrong with it."

Arthur rinses Merlin's hands one final time and then wraps them in a soft white towel, drying them quickly. This is going to be the worst bit. He scoops out a blob of the coconut body butter this time, dividing it evenly between Merlin's upturned palms, rubbing it into his pale skin as fast as he can.

"S'not exactly a massage," Merlin comments. Arthur knows a challenge when he hears it and presses a little harder with his thumbs. Merlin's fingers wiggle in Arthur's hands and he makes the mistake of looking up, their gazes catching. Apparently Merlin's one of these people who can smile with just his eyes, and Arthur finds that he can't look away.

It's Merlin's turn to clear his throat awkwardly and look away, a slight blush colouring his sharp cheekbones. When he looks back, he doesn't quite meet Arthur's eyes as he says, "So, um... You try that stuff I gave you?" in the air of someone desperate for _something_ to say.

"Yes," Arthur says, wrinkling his nose in distaste and turning his attention to Merlin's other hand. "Disgusting. What am I supposed to do with the sugary crap it leaves all over my mouth?"

"Lick it off, obviously," Merlin says, and for some reason, every possible filthy connotation of that leaps into Arthur's mind at once and he has to bite back a smile.

"Yuck," he says, a bit petulant maybe, but it's better than saying _why don't you lick it off_? "Our strawberry one's much better."

"Yeah?" Merlin asks, and he draws his hands away from Arthur, bringing them up to his face to breathe in the sweet coconut smell.

"Don't believe me?" Arthur asks.

Merlin grins, his eyes twinkling. "Frankly, no."

Arthur pulls an offended face and reaches into one of the drawers in the cabinet, chucking his pot of lip balm over to Merlin. He ignores Merlin's faintly surprised expression in favour of draining the basin into the small tank concealed in cabinet, watching surreptitiously through his eyelashes as Merlin tries it out, sniffing it first.

"Hmm. S'nice. Thanks," he says, nudging the pot back across to Arthur. "So, um. You got long left to work?"

Arthur nods. "Yeah, til closing. How about you?"

"Going to the studio," Merlin says. "I've got a tutorial tomorrow afternoon and my supervisor's a total git. And I'm in second year now, so it actually counts."

Arthur can't help a laugh, because he knows that feeling. "Would you like to me lie and say the pace really slows in third year?"

"Depends. Can you make it convincing?"

Arthur pretends to consider. "Probably not."

"Don't worry about it then," Merlin says with a bright smile. "I fully expect to spend the next two years pulling my hair out anyway, so no harm done."

Arthur watches as Merlin picks up the rings he'd discarded earlier, sliding one onto his thumb and one onto his middle finger. ( _Really extraordinarily long, slender fingers_ , Arthur tries not to notice.)

"So what are you going to do with this illustration and animation lark, then?" Arthur asks, seizing on any possible topic.

"Kids' books, hopefully," Merlin says enthusiastically. "That's what I started off drawing, you know? Scenes from my favourite books and stuff. What about you? Where's business and economics going to take you?"

"My dad's company, probably. I work there in the summers, so... Yeah. Probably that."

Even Arthur knows that he usually sounds happier about it than that, but Merlin doesn't remark on it, just giving Arthur another of those smiles that throws his model's cheekbones into sharp relief.

"Well," Merlin says, dragging Arthur's attention away from his face and his smile and his eyes (and Arthur thinks _fuck, I might be in trouble here_ ). "That was great, thanks. I should probably let you get back to work."

"Yeah, okay. Good luck with the git."

Merlin laughs loudly. "Thanks. See you around, yeah?"

"Most likely."

Merlin hops down from the stool and hefts his bag up onto one shoulder, heading off in the direction of the campus. When he's a few shops away, he glances back, catches Arthur watching, and raises one hand in a wave.

"Have you finished flirting now?" Morgana asks, appearing from nowhere.

" _Jesus_ , Morgana!" Arthur says, glaring at her. "Warn a bloke, yeah? Also, _what_?"

"We have CCTV for a reason, Arthur," she says calmly.

Arthur splutters. "What? Yeah, for catching shoplifters, Morgana, not for spying on your own staff. And anyway, I wasn't flirting," he adds belatedly.

"You were clearly flirting," Morgana says flatly. "Which, fine and everything. But not on my time."

" _Your time_ ," Arthur mutters as she heads back to the shop. "Bloody woman."

***

Arthur cannot believe he is doing this. Even if what he's _actually_ doing wasn't completely fucking mental, there's also the fact that he's having to tap hitherto unknown depths of ninja abilities so that Morgana doesn't see him going into Lush on his day off.

 _Mad_ , he tells himself firmly as he ducks around HMV, past Hotel Chocolat, and into Lush. The smell is overwhelming on the street, but inside it's ridiculous. It's nice enough, but so bloody strong. A quick glance around shows Merlin's nowhere to be seen and Arthur feels his heart sink. The fact that he's not there makes the idea seem even more ridiculous, because now he either has to turn around and walk out, which is weird, or he has to leave the little pot he's clutching in his hand behind the counter for Merlin. Weirder.

Deciding to kill a few seconds looking around and then leave, Arthur can't help smiling when he sees a blue block of something-or-other, a bright rainbow emblazoned on the front. _Dorothy_ , he thinks in amusement, then startles when he hears,

"Hey!"

He turns to see Merlin emerging from the back room, wiping his hands off on the front of his black apron.

"Hi," is all Arthur manages at first, because he's suddenly painfully aware that the girl behind the counter is watching them curiously.

Merlin offers him a smile and says, "Hello."

Arthur hears himself say, "Hi." _Again_. "Oh. Did that bit, right?"

"Sort of," Merlin agrees.

"Right. Okay. Um. This is for you," Arthur blurts, holding out the pot of grapeseed body butter. "You said you liked it and I do too so I stocked up when we stopped doing it and, um. So. This is for you."

 _Why the fucking fuck have I lost the ability to talk like a normal person?_ Arthur asks himself desperately.

Luckily Merlin doesn't seem much better off. He takes the tub from Arthur's hand and looks at it, then glances at Arthur from under his eyelashes like he's waiting for the punchline. When it's not forthcoming, he gets that little flush across his cheekbones and says,

"Thanks," in a soft little voice.

Arthur feels his heart thump hard in his chest and yep. Definitely in _so much fucking trouble_.

"So," he says, clearing his throat. "I better get out of here before the smell or your boss chokes me."

Merlin laughs again, his eyes going soft. "Alright. Well. Thanks again. You going to work now?"

"No, library," Arthur groans.

Merlin gives him a sympathetic look and claps him on the shoulder. "Good luck, soldier."

"See you," Arthur says.

When Arthur gets outside, his face feels hot and he's honestly having trouble believing that he has the capacity for such stunning awkwardness. _Fuck it_ , he decides. He's probably freaked the boy out so badly that he'll never see him again. At least that'll be an end to the matter and he can stop being haunted by bright blue eyes, soft skin, slender wrists. Yeah.

But then, in the library five hours later, one of those narrow wrists is attached to the hand that sets a cup of terrible vending-machine coffee down in front of Arthur and says, "Hey. _There_ you are."

"Um," Arthur says, looking up from his books. He half wonders if Merlin's a hallucination brought on by too long studying business ethics.

"So, I'm not a stalker," Merlin blurts, and Arthur grins as he realises maybe he doesn't have the monopoly on awkward in this situation. "But Gwen said I could have been nicer earlier, and you said you'd be in the library, so... Do you even drink coffee?"

"This isn't coffee," Arthur points out. "It's dark, tepid water with a little bit of caffeine in it. And hell yeah, I drink it."

Merlin smiles and Arthur can't help thinking that it's a bit charming really, his happy, expressive face. He leans against the side of the booth Arthur's working at and glances at the textbooks stacked neatly in the right hand corner, the single notepad to the left of his laptop.

"Neat freak?" Merlin asks.

"Um. Maybe a bit."

Merlin groans and looks away. "Okay. I really didn't stalk you all the way to the library – "

"Thought you weren't a stalker?"

Merlin waves a dismissive hand and goes on, " – just to call you a freak and make you drink terrible coffee. Here," he says, reaching into his messenger bag and holding a yellow paper bag out towards Arthur. "I don't know if you're a bath or a shower man, but you should be a bath man just for this at least. Also discontinued, also from my own personal stash."

Arthur can't help laughing. "Glad I'm not the only man in the world that does that." He takes the bag and peers inside it to see a large disc, half yellow and half orange. The smell is citrusy, but not obnoxiously so, and he glances up at Merlin. "Thanks."

"S'okay. One good turn and all that." Merlin shifts awkwardly and glances at his watch. "I have to go to the studio, but um. I'll see you, yeah?"

"Yeah, definitely."

Arthur watches Merlin walk away, and this time Merlin looks back, quirking him a smile.

***

They see each other around after that, on campus, or near work, or around town. Arthur has to grudgingly admit that the citrus thing – called a Happy Pill, apparently – made for a pretty good bathing experience. He feels moved to defend his shop's honour, though, so he slips Merlin a small bottle of the White Musk bubble bath. In return he gets a blue and white bubble bar which smells like the inside of a head shop.

The next time he sees Merlin he looks knackered, pasty instead of pale, with bags under his eyes. Arthur slips him a pot of eye cream and says, very seriously, "The vitamin E's an excellent anti-oxidant, and there's shea butter and all that hippy nonsense as well."

The time after _that_ , they're both on the way into work. Merlin looks a lot better, and he jogs over from the front of the shop to shove a tub of body powder into Arthur's hand. "In your honour," he says solemnly. "The hippiest thing we sell, in my humble opinion." Arthur laughs and watches Merlin go, ignoring Morgana's expression of distaste at the sight of the Lush product in his hand. In all honesty, he's grinning too much to really notice.

A few days later, Arthur turns up at work to find Vivian's working as well. She's a nice enough girl, but she does not understand the meaning of the word _gay_ , so Arthur doesn't bitch as much as usual when Morgana packs him off into the back room to do a stock take and place an order. He pops in his headphones and just gets on with it, only emerging when he's fairly sure Viv will have left for her lecture.

"The boy from Lush was in here," Morgana tells him when he finally pokes his head through the door.

Oh _God_. The idea of Morgana talking to Merlin is really pretty horrifying. "Oh. Um. He was?"

"Yes. You're meeting him in the union when you finish your shift."

Arthur blinks. Great, and everything, but... "He didn't think to ask _me_?"

"You were busy," Morgana says mildly. "I said you'd do as you were told, anything to put an end to this pathetic attempt of yours to woo him with free samples."

Arthur splutters, says something about, _I do not woo_ , but Morgana just goes on, "He said he should introduce me to his flatmate, and he'd see you there around three."

"Christ on a bike, woman, you are a nightmare. What if I don't want to meet him for a drink?"

"You clearly do," Morgana says. "You're like a twelve year old with a crush. If he had pigtails, you'd pull them."

The matter seems to be settled.

***

Arthur's not nervous when he walks into the student union. He doesn't get nervous. Nonetheless, his heart or something like it thumps in his throat when he catches sight of Merlin perched on a bar stool. Jesus Christ, his legs go on _forever_ , and Arthur immediately finds himself entertaining a dozen filthy notions of those legs wrapped around his waist or slung over his shoulders.

He manages to push the images to one side for long enough to go over and say hi. Merlin gives him that massive grin again, and the first thing he says is,

"So, your boss is pretty fearsome, huh?"

"She's also my cousin, which is why she thinks she can get away with being such a harpy," Arthur explains.

Merlin laughs and nods towards the optics. "You wanna grab a drink and try to find a table?"

"Sure. What're you having?"

"Oh, I didn't mean – "

"I know," Arthur says. "You can get the next round, yeah?"

"Alright. Rum and coke, in that case."

When they find a table tucked in the corner, it's surprisingly easy to talk to Merlin. He's very expressive, with his hands as well as his face, and they only realise time is getting on when a DJ sets up in the corner. The music is bloody awful, and they finish their drinks and head for the exit as quick as they can.

In the amber glow of the streetlights, and through the mild fuzz of a few drinks, Merlin is really quite extraordinarily lovely looking, and Arthur hears himself ask, impulsively, "Hey, do you want to go for some dinner?"

They go for pizza in the end, and a few more drinks in a quiet pub, and around half eleven, Arthur thinks dimly that he hasn't had this much fun with this little effort in ages. When they finally leave the pub, they're both drunk enough that they don't even try to be subtle when they stumble against each other as they walk to the bus station. Before Arthur knows what's happening, he's got his arm around Merlin's waist, and then the next minute he finds himself pressed against the bus stop, Merlin's mouth seeking his urgently. He tastes like tomato from the pizza, and the rum he's been drinking, and mint underneath it. It shouldn't be great but it really, really is. Arthur tangles a hand in Merlin's university hoodie and tugs him closer, shivering a bit when Merlin's hand settles into a caress on the side of his throat.

When they part, Merlin says a bit dazedly, "Ha. Wanted to do that since pretty much the first time I clapped eyes on you."

Arthur can't help smirking. "Good to know."

Merlin groans. "God. You're going to be impossible now, aren't you?"

Arthur steals another kiss instead of replying.

"Y'taste like that strawberry stuff," Merlin tells him. "Nice."

Arthur cups his hand around Merlin's cheek and looks into his eyes, a little soft with drink but bright, bright blue, and honestly happy.

"I – " Arthur starts, not sure what he's going to say. Maybe _think you should come home with me and address some of these leg-based fantasies of mine_. " – think that's your bus," he says.

"Call me, yeah?" Merlin demands, backing away from Arthur, fumbling his Oyster card out of his pocket.

"Yeah," Arthur says, and when Merlin's bus pulls away, he catches sight of his reflection's ridiculous smile in the window. He doesn't care though, just bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits for his own bus.

***

Three days later, they go for dinner and then watch a late film. At the weekend it's a football match on Saturday, and Merlin insists on an art gallery on Sunday as revenge. They grab coffee in between their lectures, lunch once or twice a week, and much to Morgana's chagrin, the exchange of free samples continues. Before long, Arthur's friends are used to seeing them together, and Arthur's met Gwen, and it's far too soon to feel a ridiculous flutter every time Merlin's name shows up on his phone, but Arthur does.

Then, a couple of weeks in, Merlin's waiting outside the shop when Arthur leaves on his lunch break. They hot-foot it down to the river for an impromptu picnic, and when they're done, Merlin kisses him again, sweet and passionate and increasingly familiar.

"So," Merlin says when he pulls back. "You want to come on a protest with me?"

"A protest?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow as he shoves their rubbish into a bag and dumps it in the bin. "Romantic."

"Shut it. You know they're shutting down the sport services at uni? We're doing a gym-in as a protest, and we thought it'd be a good idea to have someone who actually looks like they _use_ the gym, as well as the skinny art kids."

Arthur blinks. "What the fuck is a gym-in?"

Merlin laughs and grabs Arthur's hand, twining their fingers in some intricate pattern. "We're doing it in shifts. They reckon no one uses the services so they might as well shut them down, so we've got three days planned out, make sure there's at least a few people there all the time."

"Christ," Arthur mutters. "I've taken up with a right do-gooder, haven't I?"

"'fraid so," Merlin says brightly. "So are you coming?"

"Is this just an excuse to get me wearing shorts and sweating?"

"No!" Merlin says defensively. "It's a very serious issue which is indicative of the university's lack of respect for the student body's needs. The shorts and sweating is a bonus."

Arthur laughs and pulls Merlin in to a quick kiss. "Got to run. Text me the times you need me to defend the uni's gym services with my blinding masculinity."

***

"I think I'm going to _die_ ," Arthur groans.

He's not exactly unfit, but a three hour gym session three days in a row would knacker anyone. Merlin seems alright, but then he's spent the last three days farting about on the crosstrainer's mildest setting, and none-too-subtly eyeing Arthur.

"Come back to mine for a shower, if you want," Merlin offers. "I'm only five minutes away."

"Is it a ridiculously hot shower?"

Merlin laughs. "Bathroom's the only reason we took the flat. It's great. Come here, let me grab your bag."

"I might just stay here and meld with the bench."

"Up," Merlin orders, wrapping his hands around Arthur's arm and tugging. "Up, up, up, come on."

Arthur groans theatrically and lets Merlin drag him to his feet. "You don't need to carry my bag," he says grudgingly. "I'm not some fainting maiden."

"But I am so very chivalrous," Merlin teases, hefting both bags onto his shoulder and pretending to stagger under their weight. Arthur laughs and slings his arm around Merlin's waist, unable to resist the temptation to press a kiss to his temple.

Merlin's flat really is only five minutes away, and the bathroom really _is_ bloody marvellous. There's a huge bath for one thing, and even as Arthur turns up the temperature and the pressure in the shower cubicle, he can't help thinking that the bath would fit them both easily. Pushing the thoughts to one side, he grabs the slab of dark green soap, pleasantly surprised when he recognises the apple and mint scent as something he's come to associate with Merlin.

Arthur thinks he could probably spend hours in the shower if the hot water didn't give out, but he resists the temptation and gets out fairly quickly, knotting a towel around his waist. Merlin's waiting in the kitchen, and Arthur certainly isn't imagining the way Merlin's eyes rove over him for a long moment before he flushes and swallows audibly.

"Um. My room's on the left if you want to change," he says. "I'll just grab a quick shower and be back in five minutes, okay?"

"Yeah, cool."

When Merlin moves towards the bathroom, Arthur thinks _fuck it_ , and pulls him in for a long kiss, taking his time to taste Merlin's mouth, suck gently on his lower lip.

"Okay, _fuck_ ," Merlin says when they part, pressing his forehead to Arthur's, his hands warm on Arthur's lower back. "Don't tempt me, okay?"

Arthur laughs and pushes Merlin playfully towards the bathroom. "Don't be long, yeah? I'll get lonesome."

Apparently Merlin's the only person in the world for whom 'five minute shower' _actually_ means 'five minute shower'. So Arthur's kind of busted because he's changed into clean jogging bottoms and then thought _fuck it_ and flopped down onto Merlin's bed. Merlin doesn't seem to mind, judging by the quietly strangled noise he makes when he walks into the room.

"Tired?" he asks.

Arthur turns his face into Merlin's pillow and shrugs. "Sore."

"You fancy a back rub?"

"Is that a euphemism?" Arthur asks, glancing over his shoulder. He can't help a twinge of regret for not looking earlier when he realises Merlin's already in jeans, scrubbing his hair with a towel.

He shoots Arthur an incredulous look and says, a bit too innocently, "No! Well. It might become one. Budge up," he says, and Arthur shuffles over far enough to let Merlin sit on the edge of the mattress. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure, okay," Arthur says lazily.

"I have magic hands," Merlin says, wiggling his fingers and grinning mischievously.

Arthur laughs and turns his face back into the pillow – because it's comfortable, by the way, _not_ because it smells like whatever spicy shampoo Merlin uses. "Go on, then," he says, his voice muffled. "Wow me."

Merlin chuckles and runs a hand up the length of Arthur's spine before he stands up, the movement shifting the bed. Arthur hears the clatter of a drawer opening and closing, but barring the ache in his shoulders, he's so extraordinarily comfortable that he can't be bothered to look around. The bed shifts again and Arthur presses his face deeper into the pillows when soft pressure on the outside of his legs makes it clear that Merlin is kneeling astride his thighs.

He feels Merlin drag something slick and solid down his back, then across his shoulders, along his ribs, releasing a burst of fragrance that's somewhere between floral and musky. It's oddly pleasant, and that's before Merlin even sets his hands to Arthur's skin. Arthur sinks more comfortably into the bed with a sigh and Merlin chuckles.

"Nice?"

"Yeah. What is that?"

"Um." Merlin sounds amused. "Massage bar. It's called Business Time."

Arthur turns his head enough to shoot Merlin a teasing look. "For getting down to business, by any chance?"

"That is what the blurb suggests," Merlin admits.

"Hmm." Arthur shuts his eyes and lets himself relax. It's not a massage in the traditional sense of the word really, not after the first couple of minutes. It's more Merlin spreading his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, occasionally bending down to scatter kisses across the back of Arthur's neck. Of course, Arthur's not exactly going to complain about that.

A while later (Arthur really has no idea how long) Merlin shifts and says, "Turn over so I can do your front?"

"Not why I wanna turn over," Arthur admits.

Merlin laughs a bit shakily and says, "Oh, thank God."

Then they're both moving in a flurry of limbs, awkward but worth it when Merlin ends up in Arthur's lap. Arthur can't believe how hungry he is for it, verging on desperate. Merlin has no complaints, though, his mouth latching onto the angle of Arthur's jaw one moment, scattering kisses over his face the next. For his part, Arthur finds Merlin's bare skin delightful, the lean, sleek muscles of his arms, the perfect stretch of his spine, all so lovely they make his head swim.

He moves to kiss Merlin's neck instead, licking and biting down to his collarbones. When he gets there, Merlin throws his head back and groans, low and throaty. _Weak spot_ , Arthur thinks triumphantly.

"I thought – " Merlin starts, breaking off to drag his short nails down the back of Arthur's neck, a delicious sting. "Thought you wanted to take it slow."

Arthur pulls back to look at him, incredulous. "What the fuck gave you that idea?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you haven't strayed below the waist _once_?"

"What can I say? I'm a gent," Arthur says between kisses. "Was waiting for you."

Merlin laughs. "Alright, we're dumb," he says. Arthur's about to agree when Merlin's hand sneaks under the waistband of his jogging bottoms, long fingers quick and clever. It can't take Merlin more than a second to realise that his hands and his kisses and his warm weight wriggling in Arthur's lap have left Arthur so hard he feels like he could drill through walls. Merlin draws his hand back, licks a shine of precome off his thumb, and that's _it_. Arthur's fragile patience snaps and he uses his weight advantage to shift their positions, pressing Merlin into the bed and kissing him, hot and sloppy, his hands jerking at the buttons on Merlin's jeans. It's easy to get them both naked, and the slide of skin when Arthur presses their bodies together is intoxicating.

Merlin lifts Arthur's hand to his mouth, sucks two of his fingers in to the knuckle, and Arthur thinks that's pretty much an invitation. He slides his fingers out, deliberately slow, pulling Merlin's already full lower lip into a pout.

"You better get them good and wet," he says, amazed that his voice is actually almost steady.

Merlin sucks his fingers back in, three of them this time, his tongue wriggling between then, sucking hard. Arthur can imagine all too clearly the way it would look and feel if that was his prick instead. He strokes his free hand down the side of Merlin's face, feels the stretch of his lips. It's the work of a moment to slide down the length of Merlin's body, only distracted for a second by the smattering of dark hair and the jut of his hips. Merlin hooks a leg over Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur's gratified to realise it feels as good as he'd imagined.

Arthur might be eager, but he's not an idiot, so he ignores the way Merlin tilts his hips upward in favour of asking,

"Will that be enough? Do you have any – "

"Fine, s'fine," Merlin interrupts. "Come on..."

Arthur uses his shoulders to nudge Merlin's legs further apart and finds he has to take a moment just to breathe. Merlin is one delicious contrast after another. Dark hair against flushed cheeks, a sliver of bright blue around blown, black pupils, dark cock against pale white skin. Then Merlin knocks his knee against Arthur and says, with a soft affectionate smile,

"Hey."

And then the contrast is between the dirty, urgent heat of the situation, and Merlin's sweet, warm nature. Shaking himself, Arthur reaches down to stroke his wet fingers over the skin behind Merlin's balls – hot, tight – and then lower, to the tightly furled entrance hidden away there. Merlin jolts at the first touch, and then tangles his fingers into the sheets. He lets out a long, pleased sigh when Arthur pushes forward, just his fingertip sliding into the grasping heat of Merlin's body.

Arthur turns his head blindly and ends up kissing Merlin's thigh. His skin is hot and fresh, a tang of salt overlaying it, and it makes Arthur's teeth itch to bite down, suck a livid bruise onto Merlin's skin that won't fade for days. He's already imagining Merlin, later, alone, pressing his fingers to the mark and breathing shakily. Arthur restrains himself though, leaning down to lick a path up the underside of Merlin's cock, getting a shocked shout in reply. He has to use his free hand to hold Merlin down, and they both give a choked groan at the sensation.

Arthur mouths at the head of Merlin's cock as he carefully slides another finger in, taste bursting on his tongue. Merlin's heel presses hard into his back and he babbles something incomprehensible, his hand skittering across Arthur's shoulder, up to cup the back of his neck, a wordless plea for more. Arthur gives it to him and _fuck_ , he really wishes he had a hand free, cause there's a very real possibility that Merlin like this is the sexiest thing in the fucking _world_. The tastes and the sounds and, Christ, every single fucking thing about it, make Arthur's head swim with lust. He knows he has to be careful though, spit won't be enough to ease the way for the kind of finger-fucking he wants to give Merlin.

Arthur takes Merlin further into his mouth in lieu of driving his fingers deeper, working his tongue against the underside of Merlin's cock and then he's shifting, pulling Arthur's hair, his hips lifting to meet Arthur's mouth, deliberately working Arthur's fingers deeper, and he's pretty sure some of the mangled words that Merlin's garbling are _yes_ and _more_ and _please_ , naked desperation on his face when Arthur pulls away.

"I'm not going to fuck you this time," Arthur says boldly, replacing his mouth with his hand and Merlin groans, desperate and pleading. "No, no, not this time. I just wanna watch you fall apart, make you come all over yourself."

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Merlin breathes. "Fuh – uh – _uck_."

"Yeah," Arthur coaxes, licking a path up Merlin's hip, adding a wicked twist to the way he's stroking. "Come on, do it. Show me. Wanna see what you look like when you're totally out of your head."

Merlin grabs helplessly at Arthur's shoulder, short nails digging into his skin, and whimpers breathlessly, "Arthur – _fuck_ – "

Arthur dips his head, overcome by the need to leave a mark on Merlin. He sets his teeth to the skin above Merlin's left hip, on the opposite side of his body from the little red dragon tattoo – bloody Welsh pride, honestly. He worries the skin gently for a moment before he bites down properly. Merlin's spine bows impressively, shaking Arthur off, and he's actually silent when he comes, a startling contrast to the moaning and crying of seconds ago. Arthur strokes him through it, watches the white stripes splatter across Merlin's abdomen.

Merlin heaves a few deep breaths and then, quicker than Arthur was expecting, hauls himself half upright, pawing at Arthur a bit clumsily until Arthur grabs his hand and directs it to where he wants it most. Merlin has long, slender artist's fingers that have featured heavily in Arthur's fantasies for the last few weeks, and they wrap easily around Arthur's length, slim and skilful.

He kisses Arthur's neck and murmurs, "That was fucking fantastic. Knew it would be just from looking at you. Can't wait for you to fuck me," he confesses, squeezing in a way that makes Arthur gasp, and then kissing his open mouth, lewd and filthy and so fucking good.

"Christ yeah," Merlin says, then breaks off to lift his hand to his mouth, licking his palm and reaching down again. "You thinking about it? Fucking me, filling me over and over. You want me on my knees for you, or – "

Arthur dives both hands into Merlin's hair, needing _something_ to hang onto, and he breathes raggedly against Merlin's mouth. Merlin's languid and easy, humming when Arthur nips at his lip, letting Arthur tilt his head to one side, biting down the corded muscles in his neck.

"Mmm. You're a biter, aren't you?" Merlin asks, and Arthur makes a half-apologetic noise, reaching down to tangle his fingers with Merlin's as they stroke. "S'okay, I like that," Merlin goes on, arching his neck, giving Arthur better access. Arthur gives in to the temptation happily, mapping a path up the length of Merlin's throat, along the sharp angle of his jaw.

Merlin presses closer and tightens his hand, starts imitating the wicked twisting motion Arthur had used on him earlier. Arthur's helpless, mouthing wetly against Merlin's neck, clutching helplessly at his back.

"Fuck, yeah, come on, I wanna – "

Arthur never gets to hear what Merlin wants to do, because as he's speaking, Merlin reaches down and cups his bollocks, and just that one touch is enough to set Arthur off. He'd be embarrassed at getting off so quickly from a simple handjob, but he genuinely cannot bring himself to care. Merlin kisses him afterwards, wipes his sticky hand on Arthur's chest and pointedly ignores his protest.

Merlin flops down onto the mattress , his head hanging off the end of the bed, a sated grin on what Arthur can see of his face. Arthur just laughs and pats Merlin's stomach companionably. He already feels comfortable enough in Merlin's space to get up and pad off to the bathroom to clean up quickly, returning with a damp cloth. Merlin's still sprawled in the same position and he groans when Arthur chucks the cloth onto his stomach.

"Oh, God. You're not one of these freaks that's actually functional after sex, are you?"

"Semi-functional," Arthur admits.

"Don't be such a weirdo," Merlin says, sounding sleepy.

Arthur tuts. "I see through you, you know?"

"Hmm?"

In answer, Arthur kneels over Merlin, cleaning him gently but efficiently, muttering, _told you so_ when Merlin makes a happy noise in response to the attention. Arthur chucks the cloth onto a free corner of Merlin's desk and manhandles him up into a kiss.

"Stop _functioning_ ," Merlin protests. "Come on, let's just have a nap, yeah?"

The bed's small, narrow, and it's awkward until Arthur – giving Merlin very little choice in the matter – rearranges them, Merlin slotted neatly between his legs, his head pillowed on Arthur's chest.

"Wouldn't have had you pegged for a cuddler," Merlin says a little bit later, but he sounds pleasantly surprised.

"No?"

Merlin yawns against his chest and his fingers fidget over Arthur's hip. "Y'seem too straight for that."

" _Merlin_. I work in the Body Shop, carry lip balm at all times, and just in case you've lost the brainpower to remember, give a rather spectacular blowjob. I don't think I'm too straight for _anything_."

He gets only a sleepy chuckle in return and runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Merlin's neck, where it curls towards his nape.

They wake up just long enough to order a takeaway, watch the news, and fall into bed again. Because they're tired after Merlin's bloody gym-in, not because Arthur secretly likes the way Merlin's single bed forces them to cling to each other. Merlin snores, which is bloody annoying usually, but Merlin does it like a _cat_ or something, all sighs and surprised little snuffles, and Arthur's last thought is that it's actually pretty hilarious.

 

***

When Arthur wakes up in the morning to cool sheets and an empty bed, his first disappointed thought is _oh, he's gone_. And then, _hang on, weren't we at his house?_ Then he registers the sound of the radio in another room, things clattering around. Arthur stretches and yawns, then spots his discarded jogging bottoms on the floor. After a moment's indecision, he pulls them on and follows the noise to the kitchen.

Merlin, wearing only a pair of boxers, is stirring something in a saucepan, a kettle steaming to one side. Arthur watches for a moment and then clears his throat.

"What's all this, then?" Arthur asks.

Merlin looks over his shoulder and smiles. "Well it _was_ breakfast in bed, but you've scuppered that plan somewhat."

"Aw. Sorry about that," Arthur says, crossing the room to curl himself around Merlin. He's surprisingly warm for such a skinny thing, and Arthur kisses his shoulder, glancing into the pan.

Merlin pokes at the greyish yellow mass and says, "Scrambled eggs?" in an optimistic sort of tone.

Arthur laughs and nuzzles into the hair curling around Merlin's ear, pressing a kiss to the warm skin he finds there. "You're very sweet," he says. "But clearly a terrible cook."

Merlin turns and gives him a quick kiss, sleepy and somehow already familiar before Arthur raids the fridge for the ingredients for an omelette. He's aware of Merlin watching him for a bit, a quietly impressed expression on his face before he stirs himself and makes tea.

Over breakfast, Merlin asks casually, "So what are you doing today?"

Arthur shrugs. "Saturday, isn't it? Nothing."

"Not going to the football?"

"Nah. Spurs are away from home this weekend. Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Well, Gwen's gone home for the weekend, so I suggest lots of noisy, enthusiastic sex."

"Sounds like a plan," Arthur says seriously.

"Well, I'm glad you approve," Merlin says, just as sincere.

Not five minutes later, Arthur learns that when it comes to blowjobs at the kitchen table, Merlin's got enthusiastic covered, so all Arthur has to worry about is noisy.

***

"So, I've got a theory," Arthur says later, once they've washed, dressed, curled up in front of the telly and finally stopped bickering about whether to watch reruns of Top Gear, or something nerdy on the History channel.

"Hmm?"

"About that bath of yours."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Looks like it'd take two people quite easily," Arthur says.

Merlin laughs. "Sounds like a theory worth investigating."

"You mean you don't know already?" Arthur teases.

"Hey!" Merlin slaps his upper arm playfully. "I moved in here, what... Two weeks before I met you?"

"Alright, alright, point taken. So what do you reckon?"

"Possibly your best idea yet," Merlin says with an admirably straight face.

That's how they end up in Merlin's huge bath, with Arthur – despite all his protests – as the little spoon. The bath water is blue, laden with white bubbles courtesy of one of those Dorothy bars – "I feel like it brought us together," Merlin had said with an impish grin – and Arthur has to admit it's pretty divine. He imagines that's mostly to do with Merlin, as he lifts cupped handfuls of water and lets them pour down Arthur's chest. He presses warm kisses to the length of Arthur's throat and sometimes passes a comment on the terrible music coming from the little shower radio.

Arthur has tried getting amorous in the bathroom exactly twice. Once was in the showers at school after football and so doesn't count, while the other had resulted in heavy bruising and a shattered shower door. He sort of thinks he could get used to this, though, Merlin all wet and firm against his back, his fingers quick and clever wherever they choose to touch.

Arthur just closes his eyes and leans his head back against Merlin's shoulder, submitting to all the weird pastes and gels and scratchy things. Merlin seems determined to try out every Lush product in his bathroom, and that's a _lot_. Arthur had checked earlier. He draws the line though – or at least tries to – when Merlin starts washing Arthur's hair with what's obviously the same spicy shampoo he favours himself. Merlin just tuts at his protests and tells him not to be such a spoilsport. Arthur heaves a put-upon sigh but doesn't complain otherwise. He's starting to think Merlin wasn't lying about the magic hands.

"There," Merlin says, after he's carefully rinsed Arthur's hair with clean water. "Wasn't so bad, was it, you great baby?"

Arthur just hums and settles back against Merlin more comfortably.

Merlin noses into Arthur's wet hair and says conversationally, "You know, when you act like that, it doesn't do much for my self control."

Arthur laughs and turns his head to give Merlin a quick kiss. "Is that really meant to be a deterrent?"

"You're a tart," Merlin says lightly, scratching his fingernails gently up and down Arthur's chest. His hand dips lower, nail sketching a circle around one pebbled nipple.

"And your dirty talk is uninspiring," Arthur teases, missing the supercilious tone he'd been aiming for when his voice wobbles a bit. Merlin chuckles warmly and nips at his earlobe, running his palm over Arthur's chest, then lower. Merlin's mood seems to shift from playful to intent in a second, and before Arthur quite knows what's happening he's been coaxed into a long, lewd kiss, one of those that promises much more to come.

Arthur feels lazy and boneless and absurdly happy, so he just lets Merlin do as he pleases for now. That apparently includes a wicked nip to his lower lip just as Merlin's hand splashes into the water to palm Arthur's cock. He was already stirring (because honestly, how could he _not_ be?) but from just a few purposeful touches, Arthur finds himself so hard so fast that he's sure his head would be swimming if he were upright. As it is, he just pushes his hips up into Merlin's touch. He gasps when the water swirls with his movement, caressing all the places Merlin isn't touching him, and only serving to emphasise the places he is.

Merlin laughs and nuzzles behind his ear, his free hand splayed wide on Arthur's chest, gentle pressure keeping him mostly still. Arthur can't help himself, wraps his hand around Merlin's wrist and urges him to move. Merlin only gives him a few firm strokes though, stopping much too soon and saying,

"Hey, lean forward."

"But – "

"Trust me."

Arthur grumbles but does as he's told. Merlin presses a sponge to the nape of his neck, water pouring first in a gush then in little trails down his back.

"You've got a really sexy back," Merlin says absently, mouthing the words to Arthur's wet skin.

"If we're quoting Justin Timberlake lyrics, I'm leaving," Arthur threatens emptily. Merlin just laughs and presses a kiss between his shoulder blades. He angles a hand between Arthur's chest and arm, palm pressed flat over the spot where his heart is pounding out rhythmic pleas for more. Short, blunt nails drag over his ribs and Arthur wriggles helplessly, choking out Merlin's name.

"S'okay. Just..." Merlin's fingers soothe over the skin he just scratched and Arthur grits his teeth.

"I swear, if you don't do something – God, _anything_ – I am going to drown you in this sodding bathtub."

Merlin laughs, a bit shaky. "Anything, huh? That's a dangerous offer, Arthur."

"Well it's looking more and more like you're all talk," Arthur says challengingly. "So it's probably not that dangerous."

"We'll see," Merlin murmurs, his lips seeking out the soft skin behind Arthur's ear. "Cause if I've one complaint so far, it's that I haven't spent nearly enough time getting to grips – pun completely intended, by the way – with that lovely arse of yours."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," Merlin says heatedly. " _Really_ , really. God, Arthur. You've got the most magnificent backside I've ever seen."

It should be silly. It _is_ silly, really, but Arthur's no longer in any mood for games, and his mind is racing with thoughts of those long, artist's fingers pressing inside him. The bath's big enough that it's only the tiniest bit awkward for him to get his knees under himself and lean forward, grabbing at the opposite side of the bath. He's expecting the groan, the grope, even the bite, right on the curve of his arse. What he's not expecting is the tongue, wet and unmistakeable, sweeping through his cleft once, lingering as it passes – _Jesus_ – right over his hole. Merlin stops then, still close enough for Arthur to feel his breath, hot and unsteady.

"If – " Arthur says, and his voice cracks. "If you're waiting for an objection, we'll be here a while."

He's expecting Merlin to laugh, because Merlin seems to take inordinate pleasure at laughing at Arthur when he shouldn't. Instead he gets a low, trembling groan and the tongue again, the same long, lingering lick. This time Merlin doesn't stop though, just does it again, and again, as if he fucking _loves_ it, as if there's nothing in the world he'd rather be doing.

Merlin's fingers are biting into Arthur's thighs. Arthur's already imagining bruises like smudged fingerprints, lewd and obvious. Then Merlin points his tongue and jabs it against Arthur's hole, one tease after another, pointed little flickers of pleasure, and Arthur just wants him _in,_ inside, _now_.

Coherent thought stops for a while. If he could give a damn right now, Arthur would be embarrassed at the way he's clinging to the edges of the bathtub, pushing back eagerly against Merlin. The water sloshes around, enough to make his cock ache for more, but nothing like enough to relieve any pressure. It's mad. Torture. Fucking _brilliant._

"God. Out, out," Merlin demands suddenly. "We'll flood the bloody place otherwise."

Arthur has half a mind to refuse, but they've already sent a few sizeable waves onto the floor, and irate neighbours from downstairs with water pouring into their living room would definitely put a downer on things, so he lets Merlin steady him as he stands on shaky legs. Merlin sort of defeats the effort because when Arthur stands he's at just the right height to press a kiss and then a soft bite to the back of his thigh. Arthur honestly wobbles on his feet for a moment before he's out of the bath and Merlin's crowding him towards the door. The thump as Merlin falls to his knees behind Arthur is loud even over the sound of the bath draining.

Like this, Merlin has to set his hands on Arthur's arse, prising his cheeks apart and tilting his head to a better angle and that's – _Jesus_ – his tongue is hot and wet, firm, insistent, and Arthur's reduced to an incoherent mess very, very quickly. There's a dark blue flannel bathrobe hanging on the back of the door, and it carries Merlin's distinctive scent, all spice and sweetness and Arthur buries his face in it, because it's that or let pleas and cries bounce off the tiles, echoing and loud and obviously desperate.

Arthur nearly bites through the flannel when the very tips of Merlin's thumbs slip into his hole, Merlin's tongue working between them, deeper, slick, and Arthur claws uselessly at the door. He stays upright only through a force of will, only because he really desperately doesn't want this to stop. When Merlin does pull back, it's only to bite along the curve of Arthur's arse, and his thumb slips inside so Arthur can't really complain.

Merlin _does_ laugh then, shuddery and amused and he whispers something about _oh, you like that_. It seems pointless to argue and apparently silence is a virtue all of its own sometimes, because Merlin dives back to what he was doing almost immediately. Except this time, Arthur hears an unmistakeable rhythmic stroking, slapping noise and his head swims with the image – Merlin, on his knees, chin and mouth slicked with saliva as he licks his way into Arthur's arse, jerking himself off. He makes these little noises, desperate sounds that reverberate through Arthur's whole body, making his heart pound hard in his throat.

He turns his head away from the door and grits out, "I swear to God, if you come before you're inside me, I will hang you from the ceiling fan by your sodding _ears_."

"Oh, God," Merlin groans. "Bedroom, then."

"What? Fuck it, you want me to _move_?" Arthur demands a bit wildly.

"No condoms," Merlin explains, but he punctuates his explanation with a quick circle of his tongue around Arthur's rim.

"Christ, why don't you have anything in here, you idiot?" Arthur explodes.

"I live with a _girl_!" Merlin protests, getting to his feet and kissing the back of Arthur's neck. "I can't keep condoms in the bathroom."

For a moment Arthur just gapes at him, completely nonplussed. "Are you – that sentence makes no sense! Girls use condoms too, you know."

Merlin groans. "Please stop talking. I really don't want to think about Gwen and sex."

In between the bickering, they make it to Merlin's bedroom. Arthur throws himself down onto the bed and Merlin's on him in a second, pushing his legs apart to sprawl between them, coaxing Arthur to lift his knees to his chest and then he's back at it again, a smacking kiss and a flurry of little licks around his hole, and sweet merciful Jesus, Arthur doesn't think he's ever been with someone who was quite so shameless in his enjoyment of this act. Merlin's practically rutting against the sheets, and Arthur feels like warning him again but he can't find the words.

Instead he reaches down, his fingers brushing Merlin's briefly, tangling, before he curls his fingers into the meat of his arse. He only meant to hold himself open, but when Merlin moves back, breathing raggedly, Arthur can't resist pushing a finger inside himself. It's easy, wet, and Arthur's distantly amazed that he's so relaxed, so ready, just from Merlin's mouth. Then Merlin's swearing under his breath in the instant before his finger joins Arthur's. It's longer, slimmer than his own, and Arthur can feel the difference inside him, and that is just... Bloody brilliant, is what it is. Merlin pushes deeper, crooking his finger, and Arthur moans, low and pitiful, then again when Merlin's tongue laps around their fingers.

"Merlin," Arthur groans, begs. "God – _please_."

"Okay," Merlin says, and he actually sounds bit regretful as he lifts his head. His face is flushed, his lips red, smears of spit on his chin and cheeks. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and scrambles up the bed to root through the bedside cabinet.

Arthur lets himself sink back into the pillows, watching through a haze of lust as Merlin slicks his fingers and works them into Arthur again, purposeful this time instead of teasing, but still fucking fantastic, the thickness of two fingers and then three such a bloody relief after the not-nearly-enough-but-still-amazing feel of Merlin's tongue. Tangling his fingers in the sheets, Arthur sets his feet flat to the mattress and lifts his hips, forcing Merlin's fingers deeper, shocking an appreciative curse out of the other man.

Merlin breathes out shakily as he withdraws his fingers. "God. I'd ask if you were ready, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone _more_ ready."

Arthur just laughs and watches Merlin fumble with the condom. Eventually he gets frustrated and pushes himself up on his elbows, plucking the packet from Merlin's apparently nerveless fingers and tearing it open. Then he thinks, _why the fuck not_ , and rolls the condom down over Merlin's dick, taking the opportunity to return a bit of the teasing, watching Merlin's eyes roll back in his head, his teeth clamping down so hard on his lower lip it goes bloodless.

Showing a bit of mercy, Arthur falls back onto the bed, arms and legs splayed wide, inviting. Merlin runs his hands the length of Arthur's legs, nudging his thighs wider and staring for a long moment, wetting his lips as he trails his eyes over Arthur's body. Arthur shifts one leg, curling it around Merlin and nudging insistently at him. Merlin snatches up the lube and slicks his cock quickly, pushing at Arthur's legs until he curls them towards his chest again.

Then the head of Merlin's cock is sliding between Arthur's cheeks in a movement that can't be anything but deliberate, judging by the devilish glint in Merlin's eyes as he smirks down at Arthur.

"Do it," Arthur insists, and Merlin hums, low and pleased. When he presses inside at first it's slow, but it still punches the breath out of Arthur's lungs and he grabs at Merlin's arm, unintentionally catching his eye as he does so.

It's almost unbearably intimate, Merlin pressing inexorably deeper while he stares at Arthur like that, his eyes dark and wide, like he's taking it all in, committing it to memory. Arthur makes a pleading sound in a voice he barely recognises and Merlin pitches forward, straining to plant a kiss on Arthur's mouth. That movement is all it takes to get him deeper, all the way inside, his hips flush against Arthur's arse, and the pleasure ripples out through his body, only intensifying when Merlin gives a first shallow roll of his hips, out and then in again.

Arthur groans and rolls his head back into the pillows, tightening his grip on Merlin's forearm. "I said you – " he breaks off, swallowing audibly and trying to aim for a bit more of a cocky tone next time. "I said you were all talk."

"Oh yeah?"

Merlin shifts his weight and the next time he moves it's a hard, _deep_ thrust, one that makes Arthur's toes curl, forces another of those desperate sounds out of him. Arthur opens his mouth to blurt out some kind of encouragement – except it'd probably have come out _I'll rip your bloody head off if you stop_ – but Merlin doesn't need it, just repeats the movement, again, again, _again_ , something wild in his expression now. Arthur realises that he's just lying there a bit like a landed fish, and he pushes back, getting a pleased, shocked shout in return.

Then they're moving together, Arthur hooking one leg around Merlin, their bodies locking together so perfectly that Arthur can't quite believe this is the first time. Where's the fumbling, where's the awkwardness? Nowhere to be seen. Merlin leans forward and kisses Arthur again, wet and dirty, his arms tense and trembling to take his weight as he fucks into Arthur's body over and over.

"God, you feel amazing," Merlin breathes against his mouth, his voice low and somehow tranquil, totally at odds with the building heat in the way he's moving. Arthur bites his lip against a smirk and deliberately squeezes himself around Merlin's cock. It obviously stuns Merlin, judging by the way his jaw quite literally drops, but it feels fucking amazing too, and Arthur does it again, lifting his head to nip at Merlin's lower lip.

Merlin reaches a hand between their bodies, and Arthur's tempted to stop him, because he's fairly sure he won't last a minute once Merlin gets so much as a finger on him, but _fuck_ , he has been hard for what feels like _ages_ , on the verge of coming for almost as long. He just rakes a hand through Merlin's hair, still wet from the bath, clumps of it thick around his fingers, and tries to breathe. Merlin's hand is hot, and Arthur's cock already so slick that the movement is easy. It's not desperate though, not the frantic race to a conclusion that Arthur was expecting, but a long, slow squeeze from base to head, once, twice, and then Arthur blurts out,

" _Please_ , Jesusfuck, _please_ , let me – make me – "

It seems that's what Merlin was waiting for because his hand speeds rapidly, almost in time with his increasingly erratic thrusts, and he's whispering, "Yeah, come on, do it, come on, sweetheart," and Arthur fucking _hates_ pet names, but Merlin's hitting just the right angle, stroking just the right way, and he can't even _think_ about complaining. Arthur's not sure what it is that's the final straw, whether it's the kiss that's more just Merlin's teeth scraping over his lip, or if it's a dizzying inward thrust, or if it's a wicked twist of Merlin's wrist. It doesn't matter because he's coming so hard he sees white blurs in his vision and he cries out in a way he's never even heard himself before, verging on high-pitched, every part of his body screaming in pleasure, Merlin's breathless, "oh fuck, fuck, oh," the only other thing he's aware of.

His leg slips limply from Merlin's waist and he just sprawls there, listening to Merlin's breath hitch before his patience snaps and he pushes into Arthur again. Arthur just lets him, each movement setting off aftershocks of pleasure – too much, too soon, but fucking _brilliant_ nonetheless – watching Merlin take his pleasure. Everything in his usually mobile face goes utterly still when he comes, and Arthur knows that if he had more than two brain cells functioning right now, he'd make a joke about slack-jawed Welsh yokels. Either that or he'd say something terrible and embarrassing, like pointing out how Merlin is actually kind of beautiful.

He considers revising that opinion when Merlin collapses onto him with an _oof_ , hot and awkward and surprisingly heavy. He also considers pushing Merlin aside and stretching the ache out of his folded leg, but so much for being functional after sex. He settles for passing his fingers through Merlin's hair – not stroking – until Merlin shifts, just enough to pull out of Arthur. It stings just a little and Arthur shuts his eyes, hears Merlin dealing with the condom, and then feels the soft brush of tissues over his stomach, cleaning him up.

Merlin lets out a long, happy noise when he curls himself around Arthur, balanced precariously on a narrow sliver of the mattress.

" 'kay?" Merlin asks.

"Mmm-hmm," Arthur murmurs.

Merlin laughs into Arthur's shoulder.

"What?"

"Y'sound like a big cat or something."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says comfortably.

It's a long time before they stir again. Arthur dozes, and he thinks Merlin probably does too, but he couldn't be sure. Eventually, they pick themselves up, have a quick wash and as Arthur's dressing, he says, "Come on. Let's go back to mine."

"But, but," Merlin says. "My bath."

"My double bed," Arthur counters. "My Sky TV. My ability to keep condoms wherever the hell I want to."

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"That, and I'm going to introduce you to the joys of massage oil you don't have to _melt first_."

Merlin laughs and kisses him. "Where's the fun in that?"

***

And that's it, really. Arthur graduates that year with a first class degree, Merlin a year later with a lower second class ("It's different in art, Arthur." "It's not. I'm cleverer than you." "You're a creative wasteland.").

Turns out Merlin might have been right, because he scraped by on one-off freelance stuff at first. Then his work was noticed by a publishing house and he was snapped up and now he gets to illustrate kids' books to his heart's content for what he openly and often thinks is a ridiculous amount of money. Arthur privately thinks that it's just a nice, reasonable amount to get by on. Privately, because money (or attitudes to money) is one thing that often kicks off the more serious of their tiffs.

Arthur works for his father for a couple of years, but he bloody hates it. Then Gwen meets a guy called Lance, who's one of those wide-eyed idealistic types that Arthur can't really bitch about anymore, not after dating Merlin for going on three years. Somehow, Arthur's not quite sure how, but he and Lance end up running a business consultancy, overhauling the ethical and environmental practices of large corporations. It's not exactly brilliant money, but Lance is good company, and Arthur feels like it's actually useful, and sometimes it makes Merlin look at him like he's something a little bit wonderful.

He and Merlin still bicker a lot (will be arguing over which pipe and slippers belong to which of them when they're ninety, according to Morgana) but the fuck-to-fight ratio is pretty damn good. A year after Arthur goes into business with Lance, he and Merlin will get a place together, like proper adults, with a mortgage and council tax and a TV licence and all that boring shit. Merlin will assure his mother that's absolutely as conventional as it's going to get, and Arthur will be faintly surprised that a bit of paperwork will be all it really takes to bring his father around.

They're still working on a definitive answer about whether Lush or Body Shop is best for getting clean (and dirty, and clean again).

 

 _the end_


End file.
